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Caesar took off from Oxford, England, maintaining an altitude of about a thousand ters as he raced across the Atlantic Ocean at incredible speed.
Leaving the land and entering the vast ocean, Caesar flew at speeds far beyond those of modern aircraft, and it was as if he was moving against ti zones. The dark night sky gradually dissolved, and the stars, moon, and sun seed to reverse their positions.
At tis he soared through the clouds, leaving a trail of white streaks in the sky, while at other tis he plumted like a teor, skimming the surface of the ocean, sending towering waves in his wake and startling countless seagulls and fish.
In less than half a minute, a new continent appeared on the horizon before Caesar's eyes. It was Arica, on the other side of the Atlantic - specifically, the United States.
With a five-hour ti difference between the UK and the US, while it was deep into the night in England, the US was just seeing nightfall. City lights twinkled and flickered, decorating the ground below.
After crossing desert landscapes, Caesar arrived at his destination for the night: Las Vegas.
Just like in the Marvel universe, Las Vegas was the largest city in the United States, and it is internationally renowned for its casinos, tourism, shopping, and resorts.
A decade and a half after World War II, the global economy had fully recovered, and cities like Las Vegas were bustling with life.
Still plenty of ti..." Caesar glanced at the sky and landed on the roof of a building in a busy part of town. He straightened his wind-swept hair.
Flying across the Atlantic in one minute, covering 6,000 kiloters to attend another event - no one would believe it if he said it out loud.
After a mont of thought, Caesar walked into a high-end clothing store nearby, tried on, and purchased a suit suitable for the evening's event.
It's true what they say: clothes make the man.
When Caesar changed out of his casual clothes and into a well-tailored suit, his already impressive deanor beca even more captivating.
Female employees and custors in the store couldn't take their eyes off him. After receiving a small note with a phone number from one of the female employees, Caesar made his way to the upscale venue in the city's bustling district.
The Hellfire Club.
The background of its owners was unknown, but it catered only to the elite. The security guards inside were nurous, and anyone with the privilege of entering had to be extrely wealthy or influential.
The entrance to the Hellfire Club was grand and luxurious. As Caesar approached, two burly security guards in black suits and sunglasses instinctively stepped forward to stop him. "Sir, please present your ID or an invitation to the club."
"Invitation... I think I have it..." Caesar muttered, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit and pulling out a golden invitation, which he handed to one of the guards.
The guard took the invitation and opened it. His previously stern expression suddenly changed to one of shock.
The other guard leaned in to take a look at the invitation, and after seeing the identity written on it, he also froze, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.
"Is there a problem?" Caesar asked calmly, looking up at them.
No, none at all!" The guard snapped back to reality, folding the invitation respectfully and handing it back to Caesar. "Welco, Your Grace, the Duke of England. Please, go right in!".
"Duke of England?!"
The elegant ladies and gentlen standing near the entrance all changed their expressions when they heard this title.
What does it an to be a duke?
In the European aristocracy, it is a rank second only to that of a king - the equivalent of a prince in Eastern nations!
Especially after World War II, the British governnt stopped granting new dukedoms, and the titles could only be passed down from generation to generation, gradually dwindling in number until they finally disappeared.
For a duke to appear in a place like this was surprising, but for him to be so young was even more surprising!
Thank you." Caesar nodded, took back his invitation, and entered the club smoothly.
Upon arriving in this ti and space, Caesar knew that if he couldn't return imdiately, he needed to find sothing to occupy his ti. The most pressing matter was securing a new identity.
Over a decade ago, before World War II had fully ended, Caesar took action during a ti of war and chaos, rescuing a prominent mber of the British royal family. Due to certain circumstances, he cleverly obtained the title of Duke.
Coincidentally, that year marked the end of new dukedoms in Britain, making him the country's last and youngest duke.
With the title of Duke of England, Caesar no longer needed to disguise his identity, allowing him access to elite gatherings and events in every country.
His purpose was singular:
To gather as much information about this world as possible and to find a reliable way to return to his original ti and space.
Inside the Hellfire Club:
The interior was even more luxurious and high-end than the exterior. Neon lights flashed brightly from the ceiling and music filled every corner.
Security guards lined the walls of the main hall. Gorgeous, scantily clad won in revealing outfits that showed a lot of skin escorted various custors - so bald, others with large bellies - to private rooms.
As Caesar entered the club's main hall, almost all of the unbooked won turned to face him, their eyes gleaming like hunters who had found their prey.
"He's mine."
"Don't try to steal him from ."
Three won, confident in their beauty and slender figures, approached Caesar from different directions, stepping lightly and elegantly.
"Sir..."
One of the won quickened her pace, about to strike up a conversation, but Caesar simply shook his finger, stopping her approach.
Caesar reached to his left, took a glass of wine from a passing waiter's tray, and casually sat down in a corner of the open lounge area. He showed no interest in interacting with the won.
This left many of them disappointed as they left.
"Not bad quality."
Caesar comnted quietly as he took a sip of wine, though it wasn't clear if he was referring to the drink or the woman.
It wasn't that he wasn't interested in won; rather, with his Superman-level senses, he could instantly tell how 'clean' they were just by their scent.
Besides, he was a frequent visitor to such places and wasn't lacking in romantic encounters. What he lacked was precious intelligence.
As he swirled the rich wine in his glass, Caesar closed his eyes and let his hearing expand freely. Hundreds of different voices poured into his ears without omission, and with his Superman brain, he filtered and processed the useful information.
"Co on, give a kiss, darling..."
"Colonel Hendry? What's he doing here?".
"The U.S. plans to deploy missiles in Turkey soon. This could be the spark that escalates the Cold War between the U.S. and the Soviet Union.".
I lost another million today!
Is World War III about to start?
Bars, parties, and venues attracted all sorts of people from different walks of life who mingled with one another. The information they shared on a daily basis, if fully collected, could easily surpass the intelligence capabilities of major nations.
As expected, war is inevitable in every world, even here, where there's no Hydra to stir up trouble...".
Caesar muttered to himself. In this tiline, without a Symbol of Peace or Captain Arica, and no superheroes to set a standard for the era, the post-war Cold War and secret conflicts between major powers were far more frequent than in the Marvel universe.
However, as an outsider from another ti, Caesar had no intention of intervening in the wars of this world.
In the Marvel universe, his original self as the Symbol of Peace was already exhausted enough. This avatar had no desire to repeat that experience.
...
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